


The Heat of the Moment

by MostFacinorous



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Angst, Auto Anal Fisting, Barebacking, Bathroom Sex, Bathtub Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Carlos, Bottom Cecil, Clothed Sex, Consensual Sex, Deep Throating, Fluff, Fuck Or Die, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magical Healing Cock, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Night Vale made them do it, Obedience, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Public Sex, Rimming, Scenting, Semi-public masturbation, Sex on a Car, Tentacles, cum enema, guided masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 21:14:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostFacinorous/pseuds/MostFacinorous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil is in heat, and Carlos refuses to be the asshole who takes advantage. But he WILL take care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Heat of the Moment

“Carlos?” Cecil’s voice in the darkness was that awkward cracking sound, the one that happened when you were trying to be quiet, but were too distressed to whisper. The desperation and worry in that voice brought Carlos out of his much needed nap.

“Cecil? What is it, what’s wrong?” He opened his eyes and pulled his glasses up from where they’d fallen on the floor next to his camping cot.

He wasn’t technically living in his lab—he did _have_ an apartment. It was just that every time he tried to leave the lab, something else came up. So sometimes he just… napped here, until the next thing came up. In this case, his boyfriend. Who was now squeezing his hand just a little on the side of too hard, and making distressed noises in the back of his throat, not unlike a dog locked out of the house.

“Cecil?” He repeated.

There was nothing visibly wrong, per se. He was sweating and flushed, but they did live in the middle of the desert, and his breath was short, but perhaps he’d run over here, and…

“Carlos… I need--” It wasn’t a whisper… it was riding his gasps for air. Carlos sat up, curling his body in closer to Cecil, instinctively protective, only to be surprised by the heat emanating from the other man.

“You’re hot, Cecil.” He said, frowning, and Cecil stared at him, solemn and wide eyed for a moment, before breaking into hysterical laughter that sent him sprawling on the floor, clutching his sides as tears streamed down his face.

Carlos pulled himself out of bed to kneel beside him, gentle hands grabbing his shoulder and his wrist, trying to stop the movement that seemed almost painful to him.

“What… Carlos, what’s _happening_ to me?” He sounded horrified in a way that Carlos hadn’t heard him before.

“I don’t… I don’t know, but you’re burning up. Okay. Let’s—I’m going to get a cold bath going. You have to tell me everything you did—maybe you walked through something, or maybe you’re having a reaction to something. We’ll figure it out, and we’ll go from there, okay? Or- do you want me to take you straight to the doctors?”

Cecil made a low keening noise in his throat and started shaking anxiously, and Carlos shook his head.

“No, okay, no. It’s alright. We’ll figure this out. But promise me if it’s something I can’t take care of, you have to let me take you to someone who can.”

“I don’t like doctors.” Cecil said, sounding small and petulant. Or at least as small and petulant as he could while also sounding like he was several miles deep in his own head.

“Come on, come with me.” Carlos picked Cecil up by the arms, and Cecil sucked in air sharply between his teeth at the contact, before lolling backwards, leaning against Carlos like he was drunk or high. The heat of him was seeping through Carlos’s clothes, and warming him in places he couldn’t afford to be warm right now. Not when he didn’t know what was wrong.

But Cecil seemed to have forgotten his worry, forgotten his bath. He had curled into Carlos’s chest and was nosing along his neck, under his ear. Carlos could hear him breathing in deep, and while it was good that his breaths were evening out a little as a result, he still couldn’t stop himself from murmuring incredulously, “Did you just _smell_ me?”

Cecil made a happy little sound of assent and wrapped his arms around Carlos’s chest, as though he would be content with never doing any more than that ever again.

Carlos, though, was worried about the effects of this kind of high, prolonged fever on Cecil’s brain. He gently pried his arms off, but Cecil snarled and… sprouted… tentacles. That was decidedly new.

The extra limbs… or, limb like things… tentacles? _Really?_ Wrapped around Carlos, and he staggered as Cecil used the combination of his new extremities and his legs to climb Carlos like a tree. Carlos swayed for a moment, but realized quickly that this freed up his legs. He managed to make it down the short hall to the lab bathroom—which, fortunately, contained both a bath and a shower, necessary because he’d already had to wash diaphanous goo from his skin after one experiment, and soak himself in vinegar to help neutralize the chemicals that had squirted out of a rock he’d broken open during another.

Now, though, he turned the water straight to cold, and let the tub fill while he sat gingerly on the toilet, being careful not to crush any of Cecil’s moving parts.

And they _were_ moving. If he wasn’t so worried about his boyfriend having become ill and having grown parts he’d never seen before, he probably would have been quite titillated about being felt up by several more limbs than he could even keep track of. Very flexible limbs. He shuddered, and instead clasped either side of Cecil’s head, all but forcing him to look into his face.

Cecil whined again at the loss of contact with Carlos’s neck.

“Cecil.” Carlos said calmly, with just enough command in his voice to sound like he meant it. “I need you to take your clothes off for me. Can you do that?” Cecil stilled, then all at once lunged off of Carlos, his tentacles receding to… to nowhere, so near as Carlos could tell, and he made a mental note to check Cecil’s back later and see what, if any, signs of them might remain.

Meanwhile, he felt the need to reach out and steady Cecil, who was removing his clothing so rapidly that he couldn’t seem to finish one operation before moving on to the next, resulting in him swaying with his pants wadded and pooled around one calf, one boot on the floor, the other still in place, and his arms trapped in his shirt and vest combo, neither of which he had actually succeeded in removing, though his tie now dangled off the bathroom’s lightbulb.

 He found himself making shushing noises, stroking Cecil’s clammy, shaking limbs, like he was some kind of young animal. He untangled the various fabrics and got him stripped down, then stopped the flow of water in the tub and turned back to find Cecil standing there, his eyes dark and fixed on Carlos. He didn’t seem to be staring at him though; it felt almost like he was looking through him. Carlos took in his stance, how Cecil had his weight shifted forward onto the balls of his feet. Almost like he was just waiting to lunge. Something in his face looked wild, and he was sporting an impressive, heavily flushed erection that made Carlos blush.

“Okay. Right. Okay. Let’s get you in the tub Cecil, okay?” He put his hand out, offering to help him in, and kept his eyes resolutely at or above Cecil’s collarbone.

Cecil took his hand, from below instead of by putting his hand in it, and used it to pull Carlos closer to him, while he stepped in. He pulled Carlos’s hand to his mouth, and Carlos wondered for a split second if Cecil wasn’t about to sprout fangs, or rows of sharp needle like teeth, to go with the appearing and disappearing tentacles.

Instead, Cecil pulled Carlos’s middle finger into his mouth, squeezing his lips around it and _sucking_ in a way that Carlos tried to convince himself would _not_ feel amazing on his cock, no matter what the blood currently rushing in that direction seemed to think.

“Cecil!” it came out surprised and strangled, and Cecil blinked at that, his eyes going a little more normal, focusing a little closer on Carlos. He let go of Carlos’s hand, dropping it and shrinking back, his lapse into lucidity rendering him mortified.

“Carlos, what--?” He looked around the bathroom.

“You’ve got a high fever, you appear to be drifting in and out of a … a fugue of some sort. Would you… why don’t you climb in the tub, I’m going to call the local health services, and see if there are any other reports of this, and if they have any idea how to treat it, okay?” Carlos was speaking quickly, alarmed at the shifts in Cecil’s face. He chose not to bring up the um… additional growths, lest he confuse and alarm the poor guy.

“Would you—help me get in the tub? I feel all shaky.” Cecil admitted, sounding as weak as he surely felt.

Carlos happily offered his hands, then let Cecil drape his arm over his shoulder to steady himself. It was a testament to how poorly he felt that he completely ignored his fingers’ proximity to Carlos’s hair. Instead, the moment his brought his body in close to Carlos’s, he stiffened all over. _All over._ Carlos hadn’t realized it was possible for Cecil to stiffen down there _more._

Still, Carlos managed to get him into the frigid bath, and Cecil gasped in air, but looked up at Carlos with clear, grateful eyes.

“Just stay in there for a minute, alright? I know it’s uncomfortable, but I need to get your core temperature closer to normal. I’ll make a call and be right back, I promise.”

That said, Carlos had no phone number for any health professional in Night Vale. He only half-believed they existed here, and only because logic dictated that they must. And it was hard to ignore logic, no matter how often it led him astray in this town.

But he could count on one thing, for sure—Rico’s would be open, and someone would be there.  It was mandated, after all. And surely with as many casual crises as the town had, they would have a number on hand for him.

That in mind, he charged next door, set on getting the information and getting back as quickly as humanly possible.

Albany, one of the waitresses whom he was friendly with, looked surprised to see him.

“Carlos?” She asked. “What’s up? You were just here yesterday… is everything okay?”

“No.” He said shortly. “Cecil’s ill… I was wondering if you might have the number for a doctor?”

She looked skeptical.

“I’ve lived here my whole life—Cecil doesn’t get ‘ill’. One time he was puking up pigeons, and he still wasn’t ill.”

“Well, he’s burning up, he can barely talk, he’s shaking, he’s… not himself.”  Carlos finished.

“Ha, sounds like….” Albany’s eyes went wide. “Oh. Ohhhhh. Um, Carlos, how long have you been dating?”

Carlos snorted and shook his head.

“I don’t really have time--”

“About two months, then? After he pined after you for a year…And let me guess—you thought you’d take it slow.”

“Well, we hadn’t really—what has that got to--?” He felt awkward discussing this with a girl who was probably barely old enough to even work here, not to mention with how many people probably listening in—Cecil was, after all, a bit of a local celebrity.

“He’s in heat, Carlos. His body thinks you don’t want him, and he’s so fixed on you, it’s decided that the two of you will get together, or it’ll burn him up from the inside. But hey, congrats, it means that the two of you are perfectly compatible!” She seemed incredibly chipper about this whole thing.

“Cecil’s body teaming up on us doesn’t have a silver lining!” He responded, anxiety making him snippy. He immediately regretted it. He took a deep breath.

“Sorry.” He told her. “Look, is this… is this normal here? Why am I not… you know, the same way?”

“It’s a thing we’re born with. Maybe you don’t have it because you aren’t from here? I dunno.  And it’s only normal with like… people who are supposed to be together, but are separated. Parents use it to prove to their kids that they aren’t actually MFEO, you know?”

“No, I can honestly say I don’t.” He said, resigned.

“Well look. Go take care of him, if you want him. If you don’t… well.” She stared hard at him. “It would be nicer to kill him outright. The City Council will excuse it as a mercy killing.” She shrugged, as if that was that. He supposed, as far as Night Vale was concerned, it was.  

“Jesus.” Carlos breathed.

“You should know that most people never find someone who will bring this on. If you ride him through it, and then leave him… it still would have been nicer to kill him.”

Carlos gaped, and Albany rolled her eyes.

“Go! He’s getting worse the longer you delay. Plus, you’re in the way of my customers.”

She gestured at the Hooded Figure waiting impatiently behind him, and Carlos backed away, before turning and leaving, too distracted to even thank her.

 This was… this was awful, this was biology dictating that Cecil fuck or die. And the worst of it was, with his mind compromised by his hormones, his consent (which would be enthusiastically given, if his earlier behavior was anything to go by) wouldn’t even really count. So Carlos was damned if he did, and if he didn’t… if he didn’t Cecil would die, and that would weigh on Carlos’s conscience, and really that wasn’t even an option.

Under normal circumstances, Carlos would try to figure out hormonal suppressants, or some sort of balancing agent… if he’d known this was a thing that might happen, before, he would have done the research and had one on hand. After this, he would need to, just in case some of those teenagers that Albany had mentioned actually experienced this…  

But there was no time now; if Albany was right, Cecil would just keep getting hotter until it destroyed him.

He wondered what exactly had to happen in order for it to be satisfied—did Cecil just need to ejaculate? Could he masturbate and be saved? Or could it be taken care of via hand jobs? It wasn’t any better, not really, but Carlos felt like he could keep that less… intimate. Less intrusive.

Was that really kinder, though? Physical support, while leaving Cecil to flounder, emotionally? He returned to the bathroom, one hand carding through his hair in a way that was sure to make it stick up at an odd angle.  He couldn’t bring himself to care about his hair just then, however.

Cecil’s teeth were chattering and he was shivering, but he had stayed in the tub, likely because Carlos had told him to. His hand was wrapped around his dick, and he was stroking it hurriedly and none too gently, like he might—well, like he might die if he didn’t. He wondered how long he’d been going for, and how much time he’d spent trying that before coming to Carlos—it already looked raw, and he winced a little in sympathy.

And Carlos couldn’t help but wish they’d done this sooner, under better circumstances.

Honestly, when he found out that Cecil had been… what had Albany called it? Pining? He had been taken aback. When he found out the extent of it, he was afraid that it was just… an obsessive crush. He’d had students who had come off similarly, during his brief stint as a lecturer. It had taken a full year of Cecil’s admiring-from-afar to realize that it had to be something slightly more; that kind of obsession usually died off given space and time. And all things considered, Cecil hadn’t done anything too horribly invasive, despite his announcing his attraction to the entire town. That was, after all, his prerogative, realistically.  No matter how embarrassed it had made Carlos, initially. It grew into a warm feeling, which had then spread, until every time he was around Cecil, he felt a sort of glow.

Except for now. Now, he had a cold pit in his stomach.

“D-did you fi-i-ind out what…?” Cecil managed between the chattering, and Carlos noted that Cecil’s eyes were still dilated, but less unfocused, and that though his body was pale and shaking, his erection hadn’t flagged. But he seemed present, for now, and even released his cock. Probably an effect of the cold on him; his body was confused. Worried, now that he knew what was happening, about sending Cecil’s body into shock, Carlos unplugged the drain and crouched at Cecil’s eye level.

“Apparently, you’re… you’re in heat.” He let the words fall from his mouth grudgingly; if this was any other town, if someone had told him this a year ago, he wouldn’t have believed it was possible.

Cecil’s eyes widened, and he broke out in a giant grin.

“I… Oh Carlos, that’s wonderful!” He enthused, reaching out to wrap Carlos in a hug.

Carlos leaned back out of Cecil’s reach, though, concerned that contact would only hasten the return of warmth to Cecil’s body. He needed to be able to talk to him first. 

Cecil’s face looked stricken. Emotions suddenly began flashing across it, a flush of humiliation stole from his ears down to his neck, before the color suddenly drained out of his cheeks, and he looked horrified. Really, honestly scared. He looked back at the tub’s water spout, then back at Carlos.

“I understand.” He hastened to say, but Carlos interrupted him.

“No, hang on. I... Cecil, listen, it’s… I won’t let you die from this, okay? We’re going to pull you through. But here’s the thing: Right now you can think, but as soon as the heat comes back, you won’t be able to. So I need to know what you feel about this, before I do anything else. If you want, I will go buy all of the ice that Ralph’s has in stock, and we will fill this tub and try and get you through it that way.”

Cecil flinched and swallowed, looking down at the edge of the porcelain and refusing to meet Carlos’s eyes.

“It won’t stop until. Until…” Cecil trailed off, clearly uncomfortable and embarrassed. “The only time someone’s survived it without um. The person they loved. This was years and years ago, mind you… she had to be ah.  _Filled_ … by… by thirty three men.” Cecil looked back up at Carlos, his eyes wide and pleading. “I don’t even think there are that many guys here who… you know. Are interested in other guys. In fact, I know there aren’t. I mean I guess... I’ll be out of it enough, probably some women could… but that’s…” Panic was setting in, and Carlos shook his head and put his palm to Cecil’s cheek, trying to comfort without raising his temperature too much.

“Tell me what you need, what you want to do. What will stop it? Is it… orgasms? Is it the… the semen?” A horrible thought occurred to him, and he swallowed. “You can’t… get pregnant, can you?”

Cecil still managed to look exasperated and fond at him, while they discussed the possibility of him dying.

“No, I can’t get pregnant. Look, Carlos… my wonderful, perfect Carlos. I.. it’s up to you. If you don’t want to… to have sex with me, I’ll find some other way. I just.” His voice caught, and he buried his head in his arms. “Can you turn the water back on?” He pleaded, voice thick and muffled, and Carlos hastened to comply.  The rushing of the water gave them each time to organize their thoughts, and neither spoke until Carlos had turned it back off.

Cecil had started shaking again, but this time it didn’t appear to be either the heat or the cold. He was… he was crying. Carlos touched his shoulder and Cecil shrugged his hand away.

“When—when you’re growing up, you always hear stories about soul mates, and how the heat comes and they find each other, and… true love. And it’s not common, not common at all, and sometimes you never know until years later, because you’re already… you already know you’re in love and you just stay close, and some people never find out until one of them dies. The heat comes and the other follows, but… oh Carlos, I’m so sorry, this is a nightmare. You didn’t even know, and you don’t want--”

Cecil in tears was the single saddest sound Carlos thought he had ever heard, and his entire chest cavity seemed to ache. Making his mind up, he stepped out of his shoes and climbed into the tub with Cecil, ignoring the water that sloshed over the edges and onto the floor, ignoring the cold as best as he could, to embrace Cecil from behind.

“I do want you, Cecil. I… just don’t like that your body is taking the choice of when away from you. I wouldn’t have pushed, not until you gave me some sign you were ready, but… of course I want you. I’ve wanted you since… since I don’t know when.”

Cecil let out a hiccupping half sob, and twisted in the tub to press his chest to Carlos’s still clothed, now soaked one.

“I’ve always loved you like my life depended on it. This doesn’t really change anything.” Cecil assured him, curling in and resting his head on Carlos’s shoulder. “My sweet, sweet Carlos. I will always want you.”

Carlos didn’t say, ‘that’s what I’m afraid of’. He didn’t give voice to the worry that maybe he wasn’t ready to be at the same level, that he moved slower and took longer—that was already obvious. Instead, he leaned in and kissed Cecil thoroughly, marveling that, even in the cold water, Cecil was so warm.

“Then let’s take care of you.” Carlos said. “But before we get out… tell me your limits. Tell me what you want me to do to you, what you like, what you know that you don’t. I won’t do anything that you might hate me for, later.”

Cecil’s smile was dreamy, adoring, and when he sighed, his breath was warm against the damp skin of Carlos’s lips. “I want everything from you, wonderful, dear Carlos.  And I could never hate you. Just…everything you want to give me, I want to take. I don’t… I don’t like bleeding. I don’t like not being able to breathe. And I might… I will probably need you more than once. It. I… it’s hormones, I think, they have to soak in. I can... in between, I can… cool off like this.”

“We’ll… make it work.” Carlos said, his brain already trying to do the math, even though he was feeling the effects of the water quite acutely now.  “Condoms? Um.. do you want… do you want to be in me, or me in you, or…?” Usually it wasn’t like this. Usually it was just going with the flow, the mood… but with having his ability to make the choice taken away, he wanted to be sure that Cecil had as much opportunity to call the shots as he could.

“All of it, oh, Carlos, everything. Need to feel you, need to be filled…” He could actually feel Cecil making the water grow warmer, now.

It seemed their respite was coming to an end.

Probably for the best, since he was starting to hyperventilate from the cold. Time to get out.

“Oh, my poor, poor Carlos…” Cecil had noticed, of course. They were pushed up against one another, and he could feel the shakes coming from Carlos the same way that Carlos could feel the rumble from Cecil’s chest when he all but purred his words.

“Let me help you warm up.”

If Carlos thought he was going to be in control, the one taking charge and taking care of things, he was sorely mistaken. Cecil kicked the plug out of the drain, and as the water receded around them, he pressed their mouths together and reached down, insinuating his thigh between Carlos’s legs, making the blood rush through his body and warming him, just as Cecil had promised. Meanwhile, Cecil’s body temperature was on the rise at an alarming rate.

When the kiss broke, Carlos could actually see the steam rising off of Cecil’s head as it dried, and he couldn’t help but worry for Cecil’s brain.

His goal very quickly became to divert the blood, and pull it lower. The best way he could think to do that was to reach between Cecil’s legs and take hold of his penis, rotating his wrist while he began setting up a rhythm. Cecil cried out immediately, needy and demanding as his hips arched into the touch. He worried for a moment about chafing him, since the moisture from the water had dried up nearly instantly, but by that logic, almost anything would, and if he was careful and smart about it, this wouldn’t take long, and he could get some lube from the workroom for the next round. Who knew how many times Cecil would need him to do this… it could prove to be a challenge. Still, inspired by his need to get Cecil cooler, Carlos began really applying himself, bringing their mouths back together to swallow Cecil’s cries, while he began sucking at his tongue in a counter rhythm to his hand’s movements.

Cecil tensed and stilled as he came, his relief coming on a sigh that sounded like melted butter.

Carlos kept pumping through it, ignoring the semen that was even now beginning to stain his wet labcoat, until Cecil whimpered and writhed and then he stopped, and pressed his palm to Cecil’s forehead, glad to feel that the heat had receded enough for him to be able to touch the skin there.

He looked into Cecil’s eyes, then ghosted his fingers down to his neck to take his pulse, which was elevated, but not dangerously so.

“You have too many clothes.” Cecil drawled. Carlos swallowed.

“So I do.” He responded, words coming out higher than expected when Cecil’s tentacles unfurled, again from no where, and lifted both of them, righting them and depositing them feet first on the floor beside the tub. Cecil’s long, lean fingers were twined in Carlos’s hair, and he was staring at him like he might devour Carlos whole.

“Let me help you with that, too.” Cecil said, and it wasn’t an offer or suggestion; even before the words were all the way out of his mouth, he was pulling Carlos’s clothes off with his tentacles, divesting him without ever letting go of his hold on Carlos’s hair, or breaking his gaze.

Carlos hadn’t come yet, so he was still hard, and growing more painfully so as Cecil’s appendages ran over him, sliding across, wrapping around, tugging and pulling and squeezing and then…

Then he was seated on the lowered lid of the toilet, and Cecil’s feet weren’t even touching the ground, and the tentacles were lowering him onto Carlos’s lap.

If you had asked Carlos what the first time they had sex would be like, he would not have imagined anything like this. He’d have bet on Cecil being all too eager to please, and himself trying to match that enthusiasm and inflict as much pleasure on the other man as possible between bouts of indulging in Cecil’s hair fetish. He would have bet on them being in a bed, maybe with candles, or at least on a couch.

Instead, Cecil was getting warm again, and his ass was somehow slick already, open and hungry, and he was sliding down onto Carlos while his tentacles blinked in and out of existence at a dizzying pace. It made him feel a little ill, which prompted Carlos to close his eyes. Somehow, though, that made it all the more overwhelming. He could smell Cecil now, could feel the cocktail of hormones and pheromones and lust taking firm hold on his body. He bucked upwards, so strongly that if Cecil hadn’t thought to brace himself on the walls around them with his… he really needed to study those tentacles closer,  because their lengths must change and—he lost his train of thought as a spark of pleasure overtook his body, and he shuddered up and into Cecil, who seemed to have mastered control of all of his muscles, and was tightening around him, pulling him deeper, as if Cecil would never be able to get enough of him. Cecil’s moaning and vocalizations were at levels that he would frankly consider sub human, but it didn’t impair his coordination any.

Cecil was single minded, and flexible, and doing things that Carlos hadn’t seen a human being do outside of a belly dancing video. It was erotic as hell, and with Cecil’s hands squeezing what would probably be bruises later into his shoulders, and a tentacle under them fondling his balls, Carlos didn’t last long. He found himself groaning roughly while Cecil’s muscles fluttered around him, milking him dry.

Cecil was hard again, too, and once Carlos felt like he could sit up without the help of the tentacles currently keeping him from falling off his seat, he pushed at Cecil’s arms. Cecil made that growling noise again, obviously under the impression that Carlos was trying to get away, but Carlos wasn’t about to back down.

“Cecil, please… let me taste you.”

Cecil’s grin was slightly unnerving, predatorial and close to hysteria, but… But it was Cecil. It was Cecil and the heat, and he let go of Carlos, let him slip free and maneuver, and soon he was kneeling in front of the toilet while Cecil lounged on it, two of his tentacles going so far as to form arm rests, while his legs spread unselfconsciously, to frame Carlos’s shoulders.

“Suck me.” It was a demanding whine, and Cecil punctuated it by bucking into the air. Carlos marveled at him, how his fingers came up to tweak at his own nipple, how the sweat created a sheen across every visible bit of skin— _how he loved him so much that his body pushed itself so close to the edge, left him panting for Carlos, for his touch, his mouth, his dick..._

That was the thought that spurred him to action.

He leaned in and sucked the head of Cecil’s cock into his mouth, rolling his tongue over it and then shifting back and forth around the bottom of the head, before leaning in just a little more and moving the tip of his tongue into the ridge below the head. Cecil gasped out a quick,

“Oh yes, fuck.” And thrust in. Carlos was ready for him, and met the thrust with a forward bob. It had been a while since his last relationship, but it seemed that some things, like riding a bike and suppressing your gag reflex, you just can’t forget.

Either that, or it was his life long ability to play the quick study kicking in.

This had never been his favorite part, not really… No pleasant fun nerve endings in his throat to send shocks through his body. The best he could hope for was a good rhythmic pace that would have him shifting and put a tiny bit of friction on his junk. Then again, this had always been foreplay, before—he wasn’t usually already spent and sensitive when he was on his knees, and if he was, it didn’t last long—more a finishing move than a full out sex act.

He’d also never had someone quite like Cecil in his mouth, though. Cecil, who was looking into his eyes the whole time, warring emotions on his face passing from hungry to adoring to wild with lust. He’d never been so willing to let someone destroy him sexually, and right now he couldn’t tell if that was just Cecil, or the effects of Cecil’s heat on his body, or maybe just the latent insanity of the town getting to him. Nor did he really care.

He felt when Cecil’s prick popped through into his throat, and he swallowed around it, overly aware of the sudden marked increase of saliva that was filling his mouth.

Nature’s way of lubricating the throat, so it would have less chance of ripping, he supposed.

Nature probably hadn’t accounted for Cecil’s hands in his hair, supporting his neck, or the way the sweat was turning Cecil chill and clammy to the touch—dehydration?—he wondered.

No, nature didn’t care how much he was actually enjoying this. All nature cared about was filling Carlos’s mouth with enough spit to send it streaking all down the inside of Cecil’s thighs, and enough that, when Cecil pulled back and came in long, quickly splurted streams, Carlos couldn’t possibly keep up with swallowing it all, and he was forced to send the pearlescent liquid partially of down his chin.  

Done for the moment, he collapsed backwards onto his heels, and looked up at Cecil, his mouth feeling warm and bloated, his hair mussed, all of him sweaty and debauched. Cecil’s cock came out of his mouth with a soft, wet sound, and Carlos was relieved to see that his erection had faded, at least for now.

“Carlos, that was _perfect._ ” Cecil didn’t seem to be entirely in his right mind, still hormone high and lust sated, but he did appear to have regained basic vocal and motor skills—and lost his tentacles again. Carlos resolved not to ask about them until the heat was over.

“Water.” He decided out loud.

Cecil looked confused, then turned his head to the tub.

“You need a break?” He asked, calm and floating, his head lolling and his movements loose and unsure.

“Yes, but if we’re going to be sweating and cumming and generally dehydrating ourselves, drinking some water is a really good idea. I think… water, and then we should go back to your place or mine—get you in a proper bed.”

“Oh, _Carlos_.” Cecil purred again, and exhausted as he was, it still sent a shiver down Carlos’s spine.

Carlos took a second to catch his breath, then stood and stretched, completely aware of the way Cecil’s eyes followed his movement.

“I’ll drive, I think. But first—water. Come on.”

“Speaking of, we might want to get some of this come… off. You know, before we leave. I’m thinking… maybe a shower?” It was full of suggestion, and Carlos looked incredulously between Cecil and the shower stall.

“Not to burst your oxygen globule, but… what you’re hoping for there? Not really going to work.” He pointed at the cubicle that was… uncomfortably small, even for just one grown man.

Cecil… pouted. Actually puffed his lower lip out and sulked. It wasn’t one of the expressions that Carlos was used to seeing on Cecil’s face; it settled somewhere on the spectrum between endearing and annoying. He resolved not to hold it against him, though—Carlos knew Cecil wasn’t quite himself.

“Hey. It’s alright… I have a feeling we’ll be making plenty more messes before the day is over, right? So… how big is your shower?”

“Plenty big.” Cecil said, standing and… wiggling? Sauntering? He moved towards Carlos with a lot more seductive weaving to his steps than usual, and plastered himself over Carlos’s front.

He was already getting hard again.

Carlos pulled back.

“Have a shower, I’m going to get some drinks together. Get dressed when you’re done so we can go, okay?”

“Mmhm. I love it when you tell me what to do.” Cecil responded.

Again, Carlos felt that flash of discomfort at the change in Cecil’s personality. He wondered how much of it was actually what Cecil thought made him attractive to Carlos, and how much was just hormones making him… desperate.

Carlos ended up just wiping himself down with damp paper towels. He figured it would be easier to get them out the door if he was dressed when Cecil got out of the shower.

Poor Cecil.

Carlos really had wanted to take his time, work up to this… do it right. Lots of foreplay, lots of moving slow and paying attention to every part of him. Instead, what he got was quick fucks in the lab bathroom, and the promise of sex until they were both sore and raw and exhausted.

It had already been… probably around two hours? And that didn’t count however long it had been before Cecil had come to him- he had no way of knowing. Not that he could have actually kept track if he did. Carlos was hard pressed to tell time, these days. He’d taken apart all of his clocks and didn’t know how to reassemble them, when some of the critical parts were furry and may or may not have been breathing. They’d also grown when exposed to sunlight, and wouldn’t fit back inside the clock cases.

Cecil came out of the shower wearing a towel—which Carlos had sort of expected. He’d put his spare pair of sweatpants that he kept here, in case of laboratory accidents, on the stool between himself and the hallway.

On the table in front of it was a pitcher of water with ice and condensation running down the outside of the glass.

“Carlos…” Cecil’s voice had the pleading note to it again, and Carlos held up his hand.

“Water and pants.” He put on his stern voice and watched the shiver that moved down Cecil’s spine—maybe the phrasing had been Cecil trying to be sexy, but the sentiment behind it had obviously been true. A germ of an idea started, and Carlos let it stew while he returned his attention to caring for Cecil.

Cecil slid the pants on first, obviously a little uncomfortable about his lack of underwear and the fluffy insides rubbing against the oversensitive skin of his groin, but Carlos figured that would be far kinder than denim. He had to step in and steady the man, though, because his legs seemed weak and wobbly—he wondered if it was because of the heat as a whole, or if Cecil had perhaps brought himself off in the shower.

He also wondered whether the possessive jealousy at the thought was purely his own, or if he was reacting to the hormones and pheromones being tossed around.

He drifted over to the pitcher and poured some of the water into a glass for Cecil, then dropped a straw in.

He lifted it up to hand to him, but Cecil wrapped his fingers around Carlos’s, preventing him from pulling away. He looked up, met his eyes, and took the straw seductively into his mouth.

Or, tried anyway—what actually ended up happening was something a bit like a giraffe going for leaves that are just outside of its reach. The straw rolled out of the way, and there was some mouthing at it, and some catching it with his tongue, turning his head, giving up and using his fingers, and then finally he got it in his mouth.

Carlos couldn’t help but laugh, and then Cecil joined in, and just like that he seemed more himself, less sultry. Gratified by the change, Carlos caught Cecil’s jaw in his free hand and leaned in to kiss him.

“I love you just like this.” He told Cecil firmly, words whispered against his mouth before he broke away and offered him the water again, this time trapping the straw between two fingers.

“You love me?” Cecil asked, eyes wide and huge and mouth a little slack.

“I—yes.” Carlos said, more thoughtfully than he meant to, so he repeated it, pushing as much conviction into his voice as possible. “Yes, I do.”

Cecil smiled, though it was tinged a little sad. Carlos wracked his mind, trying to figure out why, as Cecil leaned in to drink more of his water, this time hands free and without trying to be sexy, without trying to meet Carlos’s eye.

When he came up for air, Carlos sat the cup down on one of his lab tables, and took Cecil’s hand in his.

“Cecil? What’s wrong? Are you… did I say something wrong?” He felt like he was walking on eggshells, suddenly, less sure of himself. And he knew a lot of it probably had to do with the situation, the town… but…

“I love you Carlos, I have forever. But you uh. Just since I …” frustrated, Cecil waved his hand to indicate his body, the heat…

Oh.

“No. No, no, Cecil… it’s not—I wouldn’t.” He sighed angrily. “The one has nothing to do with the other. Look how long it took me to even figure out I was interested in you. I… my feelings grow slowly, and so subtly they sometimes take me by surprise. But I realized—sometimes, in the grips of the heat, you act… not like yourself. And I realized that if you changed, I would miss it. It would break my heart. And when you are yourself, like now, when the heat has receded a bit, it just snuck up on me. I love you. And it has nothing to do with… with anything that happened in that bathroom. I’d even go so far as to say that this? This whole heat thing? It doesn’t count. Because this isn’t what I want for you, for us… when this is over, and your body has had time to recover, I am going to lay you out and make love to you _, really_ make love to you. This… this isn’t either of our choices, really, but it isn’t a bad thing either.” He took a deep breath, realizing he’d started almost lecturing. But Cecil’s eyes were glassy with unshed tears, and he was afraid he’d said something terribly wrong.

Cecil allayed that fear by launching his arms around Carlos’s neck and pulling him in close.

“My Carlos.” He whispered in his ear. “My perfect, wonderful, sweet Carlos.” Carlos wrapped his arms around Cecil’s back and squeezed him in close.

“My brilliant, kind, funny, gorgeous, darling Cecil.” The compliments felt odd on his tongue, uncommon in his mouth, but also like they could learn to belong there. Cecil made a tiny noise of delight and turned his head to kiss Carlos.

“You smell like me.” Cecil murmured, voice going deep and husky with lust.

Carlos put a stop to it, though, afraid it would trigger the next wave of heat for him.

“How are you feeling? Do you think you’re okay for the drive from here to your place?”

“I think I could go anywhere with you.” He sounded disjointed again, like when he’d first arrived at the lab, but without the fear. Just a sort of drowsy, drifting happiness, complete with tiny smile. It was the sort of face that Carlos would expect to see right before a perfect, slow bout of morning sex.

“Alright.” He decided. “Have another glass of water—I’ll get my keys.”

Cecil’s urgency heightened on the drive, and nothing that Carlos did seemed to help. He kept the air conditioning so high that it made him shiver, but that didn’t seem to offer Cecil any relief. He was pressed against the door of the car with his arms wrapped around his body, obviously forcing himself to keep as far from Carlos as possible—which Carlos appreciated, since he had no real desire to crash because Cecil’s heat made him handsy.

When the road turned out to be blocked by the debris of the latest attempt at destroying the library, and they found themselves boxed in by other cars, Carlos thought about the idea he’d had back at the lab. Cecil was whining under his breath and panting now, and Carlos cleared his throat and wet his lips, surprised to be turned on by the way Cecil’s eyes followed the movement.

“Cecil? Do you… do you want me to help you get off?”

Cecil forgot to breathe for a moment, then he all but choked out, “Please.” The sound of him trying to keep control over his need was… more erotic than he had imagined.

Carlos grinned and trained his eyes straight ahead, looking out the windshield.

“I have to focus on the road. But I want you to touch yourself. Will you do that for me?”

Cecil moaned through where he was biting his lip.

“Is that a yes, Cecil?” He made his voice sterner again, and Cecil’s mouth dropped open.

“Yes, oh yes.” He sounded breathless, and Carlos instinctively moved a finger up to tug at his collar, despite it being unbuttoned a bit. Now he was glad for the A/c.

“I don’t want you to put your hand inside your pants yet. Just palm yourself through them.” He darted a glance at Cecil’s lap to see that he was being obeyed.

Cecil’s eyes were squeezed shut, and his hand wandered down between thighs that had fallen open. His fingers curved under the bulge that had to be his balls, and he rocked his hips into the touch, before dragging his hand upwards and along the shape of his shaft, over the dark grey material.

“Good.” Carlos found himself praising, licking his lips and turning his eyes back towards the road. The construction crew was waving people through, slowly allowing traffic to trickle forward.

“Now I want you to squeeze yourself, put pressure on where you need it the most.”

Cecil made a sound like a sob, but his spindly fingers obeyed, wrapping as far around himself as the pants would allow and tightening visibly. He whimpered.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” Carlos said gently. He looked over to see Cecil’s grip relax for a moment. “Perfect.” Cecil let out a disbelieving squeak and Carlos chuckled.

“Please Carlos.” The urgency was there, but somehow it didn’t give Carlos the same fear this time; he knew Cecil would be okay, that they, together as a unit, would be fine. And that this would help, a bit. He hoped.

“Alright. You can touch yourself directly now. Slowly.” Cecil gasped and immediately plunged his hand into the loose waistband of the pants. Carlos darted a glance towards the bobbing tent, easily able to imagine Cecil’s cock, dark and leaking, as his hand made its way up and down. Cecil wasn’t as gentle with himself as Carlos had been, nor as dexterous, but considering how impaired his speech was, he could only imagine how sloppy his motor functions were now.

“Please can I—“ Cecil started, then broke off, looking at Carlos with his mouth open and his breathing heavy.

“What do you want, Cecil? Tell me.”

“I want to come, please Carlos, can I…”

“Do it. Come for me, Cecil. Let me hear what you sound like when you cum all over the inside of my sweats. And who knows who’s looking through the windows… How many other people get to see the look I see on your face when you lose control.” He wasn’t sure how Cecil felt about exhibitionism, but judging from his muttered

“Oh…” he didn’t object. Or at least, not right now.  Not that anyone was actually looking, so far as Carlos knew. At least, he couldn’t see anyone who would be able to see into the car. Aside from the Sheriff’s secret police, of course, but that was a constant anyway.

Cecil increased the speed of his movements, his head lolling backwards on his neck while he rolled sideways in his seat, arched his spine and thrust upwards into his hand, mindless in his lust, uncaring of who might see.  His other hand had snuck in behind him, and judging from the angle and the motions, he honestly wouldn’t be surprised if Cecil had managed to put his entire fist in. Moreover, he seemed to find it very satisfactory.

That abandon was something Carlos had never had in a partner before, and he liked it. He wondered if any of it carried over to normal sex with Cecil, and reminded himself that he would have to try not to compare the experiences.

The car crept forward while Cecil strove for his finish, but Carlos saw the problem just a moment from Cecil tumbling over the edge.

“Cecil, I need you to stop now.” He said, his voice no longer in charge. One of the balaclava clad Secret Police people who was helping to direct traffic was approaching down the line of cars.  

He didn’t know what Night Vale’s laws on public indecency were, but he knew he didn’t want to find out.

“So close.” Cecil whined. “It’s so hot, Carlos, I—I can’t. Please…” Of course; he would be hottest now. And that wouldn’t go away until he slaked his arousal. Carlos swallowed, meeting the eyes of the officer as he passed the front window of the car before them, and Carlos sighed and threw his little hybrid into drive.

“Hang on, Cecil.” He muttered as he backed up, spun the wheel far to the side, and gunned it.

He could feel the debris shifting under his tires, and he had to wrench the steering wheel to the side to avoid two more officers who stepped out of their posts to see what the commotion was. But a minute later with his heart pounding wildly in his throat, they were free of both the rubble and the blockade, and it didn’t seem like anyone was following them.

Cecil was slouching in his seat, spent and boneless, his hand still in the pants and a dark stain blossoming in his lap. Carlos pulled off to the shoulder and undid his seat belt and leaned over to touch Cecil, to check his pulse and temperature.

Cecil opened his eyes as soon as he felt Carlos’s hands.

“I’m sorry I didn’t--” He started, but Carlos smoothed his hand down his cheek, then ran his thumb across his lower lip.

“Don’t be. It’s fine. You’re fine.” He answered.

He resolved not to worry about getting in trouble over it; if he could plead mercy killing for murdering a man in heat, clearly he could claim it as an emergency situation for a minor traffic violation.

“We’re almost back to my place now.” Cecil told him. “I feel like I could sleep for a decade.”

“Good.” He remarked absently, busy watching Cecil’s lips move while he stroked along his jaw. “Maybe that means it’s coming to an end.”

“Hope so.” Cecil said softly.

“I know. It’ll be over soon. Let’s get you home. It’s going to be okay, Cecil. I promise.”

Cecil smiled and rolled so that his forehead rested on the window, dozing for the rest of the trip.

When they finally got to Cecil’s apartment, after a sort-of-wrong turn down a road that only existed on the map, and not in real life, (“Copyright roads. There are a lot here—it’s how map makers know they aren’t being plagiarized.”) Carlos parked out front and had to half carry Cecil out of the car.

His body had gone clammy again, and he was wracked with shakes, sweat all but streamed down his forehead and all he wanted to do was sleep.

Unfortunately, neither of them had considered that the keys to Cecil’s apartment would be in the pants that they had left at the lab.

Cecil moaned and dropped his head against the front door while Carlos stood back, his foot on the top step of the stoop, trying to think of the best option.

“We could break in.” He offered, going for light hearted.  But Cecil shook his head.

“I paid for burglar proof sigils to be installed two weeks ago. We’d never… ah!” The sentence was interrupted by him trying to turn and ending up arching his back and clinging to the doorframe, instead.  He cleared his throat. “Never get in.” He finished, trying to pass it off like nothing had happened.

“We can just go back and get the keys. We’ll take a different route there, so it won’t take as long.” Carlos was concerned by the jolt, the jerking of Cecil’s body, apparently without his permission, but it seemed Cecil didn’t want to talk about it.

“I don’t… I don’t want to be in the car any more. It um… it’s too small, and you’re so close but I can’t touch you. It makes it so I-- I can’t breathe.”

“Oh, Cecil, I’m sorry, I should have realized. Alright, I’ll just go get them, it won’t take me long. I promise.” Carlos started down the steps, his labcoat swaying behind him.

“Wait—“ Cecil sounded strained. He cleared his throat.  “Before you—before um. Would you…? I need—“

He turned back, surprised.

“Ah- here?” He looked pointedly at the porch, and its total lack of privacy. Cecil grimaced.

“Maybe—bring the car around the back?” He asked, and Carlos nodded, hurrying back into his car, starting it up and following Cecil in the direction he walked.

He parked in the shadow of the building, confused. There were less windows, and they were in an alley, but there really wasn’t any more cover here than out front.

Cecil, however, seemed to no longer be in any state to care. He had already begun pulling off the sweat pants, or pulling them down, at least. He didn’t even care enough to remove them completely. He lay his chest across the hood of the car. Carlos winced as he closed the door behind him.

“Cecil, that has to be burning you!”

“It feels so cool though.” Cecil responded, distantly. He rotated his head to follow Carlos’s movements, pushing his cheek against the hot metal.

“Oh, Cecil.” Carlos hated that he had almost left him like this, all on his own. He’d thought it was almost over. Guilt sprung up in him, and for all that Cecil was spread out, needy and wanton and waiting for him, there was just no sign of arousal in him.

Cecil must be raw by now, must be sore and he knew that he was exhausted. He felt like he was torturing him. And with him laying on top of burning hot metal to boot, he just couldn’t—

He stripped off his labcoat.

“Stand up for a second for me?” He phrased it as a request, but Cecil obeyed instantly, as though it had been a shouted order.

He lay the fabric out over the hood, pressing his hands to the paintjob just to be sure—it wasn’t as hot as he’d feared, but neither was it cool enough to be comfortable. The coat did help though. He was glad he’d opted for a decently thick one, as opposed to his summer coats. He’d figured he’d end up kneeling on it at some point, but this seemed a much better use.

“Alright Cecil.”

“Please, please Carlos, I need it.” He was positively dripping now, as the sweat rolled down him. His ass, too, was wet, and Carlos refused to think of taking a sample for analysis. Right now, he had to focus on getting himself hard, or… or Cecil was just going to have come this far to lose himself to this awful biological display.

“Cecil, I…” Cecil turned and immediately saw the problem. He dropped to his knees in the dirt, probably skinning them. Before the dust had even settled, Cecil had Carlos in his mouth and was making tiny, piteous noises into the skin of his cock, but Carlos was wincing. If he was this sensitive now, he couldn’t even imagine what Cecil’s body was going through.

He stopped Cecil with hands on his shoulders, and pushed him backwards a bit. Just enough to pull his still flaccid penis out of his mouth. Cecil leaned in, trying to follow it, but Carlos shook his head.

“If my dick’s this sore I can’t even imagine your ass.” He thought for a moment, forcing himself to ignore the little desperate sounds that Cecil was making. Cecil grabbed at his thigh, holding onto him as though he thought Carlos would just decide he’d had enough and abandon him.

Finally, he cleared his throat and looked down.

“Cecil, are you there? I need you to try and beat it back—just for a minute.  Look, I want you to fuck me. I don’t have any lube, though. So—“ Cecil’s mouth had fallen open, and he stood and all but manhandled Carlos into his former position on the hood of the car.

Carlos shook a little, afraid that the animal urgency inside of Cecil wouldn’t allow him to be slow or gentle. Carlos was… out of practice. But even so… this would be better for them both, afterwards, he thought. Better to inflict at least a little of the damage on his body, instead of forcing Cecil to bear the brunt of it.

Cecil had already undone Carlos’s pants when he was trying to blow him, so he just yanked them down now, then batted his legs apart. He spread them, bracing himself for the immediate feel of Cecil’s stiff and leaking prick at his entrance.

Instead, he felt breath for a single moment, followed by heat—so hot—and damp.

And then it registered that Cecil was _licking_ him, loosening him up with his tongue and spit, and Carlos felt nearly weak with relief.

Even as desperate as he was, Cecil was careful, gentle… he moved fast, but he wasn’t rough. Thorough, passionate, but not hurtful.

It was enough that it had Carlos moaning in a matter of minutes, and he forgot himself completely when Cecil stood up, and he was left empty and wanting.

And then he wasn’t. He felt the head of it first, then a slow, careful slide. Small abortive thrusts drove Cecil in deeper, carefully keeping him comfortable. He sighed and shifted his forearms, trying to get his chest off of the hood, which was hot even through the lab coat.

Cecil noticed though, of course he did. Suddenly Carlos found his chest resting on tentacles, which were arranging themselves over the hood so that all he felt was the heat of Cecil’s body, less sharp and painful and more slowly stifling. This was better, though, as they flexed and moved under him, dragging through the hairs on his chest, tugging lightly at them and manipulating his nipples, one brazen smaller appendage even wrapping around his dick—not tugging, not creating real friction, just flexing around it… getting him off without actually making the soreness worse.

And Cecil had increased the speed of his movements, now pushing in nearly all the way before pulling out just as far, each and every thrust sliding over Carlos’s prostate.

It was for the best that the tentacles were out. He didn’t suppose that his legs would hold him any more, any way.

“Carlos.” Cecil breathed, his voice scratchy and low. “Oh, Carlos. You’re as beautiful and perfect inside as you are outside. I could spend forever in you.” Carlos could just imagine that being broadcast across the radio all over town, and gasped when the thought brought him straight to the edge and then tipped him over.

Cecil took longer to finish, and Carlos wasn’t… uncomfortable, exactly, until then. It was like being massaged, lying in Cecil’s arms. Tentacles. Whatever. It felt like a waterbed, while behind him liquid began filling him. Not the small amount like past partners’ cum… a few splurts and done. This was… this was massive amounts. It dripped out of his hole while Cecil continued to spill out, and felt… not unlike an enema, actually. Only with no expectation of him holding it in, and Cecil had repositioned him so that he was bent over more, so the liquid wouldn’t ruin his pants—thoughtful, even while barely able to stay on his feet, exhausted and, it seemed, finally sated.  Cecil pulled out and massaged Carlos’s slightly distended lower stomach with his human hands, while his tentacles parted Carlos’s cheeks a little to help promote him dripping out as much as he could, before he was allowed to his feet again.

Once he’d finished, Carlos carefully stepped out of one leg of his pants, lifting the other so that he could move, and he popped his trunk open to pull out the knapsack that he kept with emergency supplies in it. He used a grease rag to clean himself up, then tossed it back in the trunk to deal with later, quickly redressed, and pulled out a second clean rag to offer to Cecil.

“Are… are you okay?” He asked, noting how Cecil sagged against the car. His tentacles were touching it gingerly now, those that weren’t wrapped around Cecil, and for another thing, they hadn’t receded yet. Carlos decided that they must be normal—Cecil was tugging them around him, like a robe, and Carlos was glad he hadn’t said anything about them.

“I think… I think it’s over. I’m so cold, Carlos.” Cecil said, his voice much closer to a croak than his usual dulcet tones.

Carlos carefully felt his forehead and pulse, then leaned in to kiss him.

“You’re back to normal. Here.” He began carefully wiping up Cecil’s groin, but paused when Cecil hissed and the tentacles thrashed a little.

“Sore?” He asked gently, trying to be as compassionate as he could. “Do you… want to do it? I don’t want to hurt you any more than…” He felt a small flush of shame, but Cecil noticed that, too, and his hand was on his cheek and his forehead pressed to Carlos’s.

“You saved my life by loving me. Nothing about that hurts.” Cecil gave him a tiny, besotted smile, and Carlos was able to swallow his heart out of his throat. “I um. Don’t think I’ll be sitting comfortably any time in the near future, though.” Cecil’s smile turned wry, and Carlos laughed and kissed him again.

“I have a survival blanket in my car, if you want to wrap up in that while I go get your keys.” Cecil nodded.

“That sounds perfect.”

He helped get Cecil back onto his porch, and laid him out on the blanket, before draping his lab coat on top of him.

“I won’t be long.” Carlos promised. “I’m going to take a few days off at the lab until you feel better. I assume there’s some sort of form for me to fill out, too, after all of this.”

“Several.” Cecil supplied, ever helpful. “I’ll help you with them maybe after a nap.”

“Deal. I’ll be back before you wake up.” Carlos said, and waited to leave until Cecil had slipped into a light doze.

As he started the car and pulled away, a warm feeling of satisfaction sunk into him, and he realized that, while the means of getting there had been… arduous, at best, the end results were entirely worth it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!   
> Thank you too, to everyone who has read, commented, and kudosed so far. If you want updates on future stories, or just want to say hi, feel free to visit me at MostFacinorous.tumblr.com!


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